


a habit takes twenty-one days to build and two years to fester

by PUNK_MENACE



Series: your heart works just fine but it's still broken [2]
Category: Broadchurch
Genre: Breakfast, Caretaking, Cooking, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Exhaustion, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Malnutrition, Mental Health Issues, Mr Thin and Grumpy, Platonic Relationships, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-22
Updated: 2019-06-22
Packaged: 2020-05-16 10:05:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19315969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PUNK_MENACE/pseuds/PUNK_MENACE
Summary: Ellie finds Alec on the floor of his kitchen one morning.  She's worried it's his heart again but when he wakes up, she realizes he hasn't been eating or sleeping properly, and it's been going on for a while.It's time for Alec to really start healing.





	a habit takes twenty-one days to build and two years to fester

**Author's Note:**

> it's the eve of my birthday and i'm feeling quite melancholy so i felt like writing some comfort for alec. hope you guys enjoy! i've got more in store for this poor man. oh, it's actually my birthday since it's 1 am already i guess lol.  
> again, if anyone wants to see it as ship, please go ahead! i can see how they would be cute together.  
> sorry for any grammar/spelling mistakes, it's late and as i was reading through, i spotted a lot of uhh missing letters, but i'm pretty sure i got them all.

Six months after closing the Sandbrook case, Ellie pulls up to Alec’s home.

 

It’s right by the water.  Some days she thinks that he’s done this on purpose, as part of his penance.  Thoughts like those creep in around the time she thinks about Joe and what he’d done.  They stick to her brain like spider webs, and she hates it.  But she gets the feeling that she’s right on the nose about the placement of Alec’s house.  She feels better knowing that the case is closed, that his indefinite sentence of self-hatred is now finite. 

 

Well, maybe not completely over.  Ellie catches certain phrases and habits in Alec that, unfortunately, she can sometimes see reflected in herself.  Of course, Ellie isn’t as bad as Alec, not by a long shot.  She’s got Beth and Tom to talk to and keep her on track.  Their situations share a lot of similarities but their circumstances are different.  Ellie knows that she can talk to any of her friends about the guilt and shame that came from the Latimer case.  The Latimer case ended, too, unlike the raw, bleeding wound that the Sandbrook case had been for Alec. 

 

Ellie isn’t one for comparing pain on a scale of one to ten – it’s more of a spectrum in her opinion – but Alec suffered in a completely different way and for much longer _and_ alone.  His heart had literally broken over it.  She won’t deny the agony that came from the trial.  It tore her apart.  The level of betrayal she’d felt…it makes her nauseous to think about it.  The key difference is the support system that Ellie had built for herself to process it.

 

Anyway, now isn’t the time for introspection.  Ellie looks at the clock and sees they’re going to be late if she doesn’t hurry and bustle Alec out the door.  In fact, she wonders why he hadn’t come toddling out already – Ellie had told him she would be a bit late this morning to pick him up.  Worry pricks her stomach but she pushes it down and tells herself to be rational.

 

Striding toward the door, Ellie fishes the spare key that Alec gave her out of her purse and swiftly enters the Hardy household without preamble.  It’s silent.  The living room is empty and the bedroom door is wide open.  He must have gotten up already. 

 

“Alec?  We’re gonna be late if you don’t hurry,” she calls.

 

Nothing. 

 

She mutters a curse under her breath and makes her way into the kitchen as fast as possible.  She spots Alec.  On one hand, she’s glad he isn’t out somewhere Ellie can’t find him. 

 

On the other, seeing him in a heap on the floor is terrifying. 

 

Ellie slides down beside him instantly, hands reaching out to grab his shoulder and turn him on his back.  As soon as she touches him, he stirs, but it isn’t as relieving as it should be.  What if his pacemaker was malfunctioning?  The human heart is a remarkably fragile thing, that’s one thing that Alec has made her realize.

 

“Alec!  Can you hear me?”  She pats his face firmly, feeling her own heartbeat going wild, and then presses two fingers to the pulse point in his neck. 

 

At the pressure on his neck, Alec’s eyes finally open.  “Nn…get offa me, Miller.  What’re you doin’?”  His words are slurred and his movements sluggish.  Not a good sign.

 

“What the fuck do you _mean_ what am I doing?  You’re on the floor!  I’m _worried_!  Is it your heart?  Are you okay?  Should I call an ambulance?”  Fussing and fretting, Ellie grabs the idiot man by the shoulders and helps him sit up.  He pushes at her quite weakly and then slumps against her.

 

“You realize you do this thing where…where y’list off a bunch’a questions and don’t give any time to answer?”  What a great time for the rare occurrence of Hardy humor to rear its head.  “M’fine, Ellie.  Just got tired.”

 

“First of all, not funny.  Second, that’s bullshit.  I’m going to get you on the couch and you’re going to explain exactly why you scared the crap out of me.”  As Ellie wraps an arm under his shoulders, Alec clenches his eyes closed and groans.  He’s a terrible liar.

 

They stagger together into the living room.  As soon as Alec detaches himself from her he falls heavily to the cushions and rubs his forehead, hard.  There’s a tightness in his features that extends to his whole body, his too-skinny frame stiff with discomfort, that tells of a headache.  It’s not exactly unusual to get a headache in the line of work they’re in but it shouldn’t be enough for Alec to end up on the floor of his kitchen, unconscious. 

 

Alec sighs deeply and rubs his eyes now, a touch gentler than before.  Ellie sits down next to him and takes a bit of a leap.  She smooths her hand over his shoulder and settles it on the plane of his shoulder blade, feeling the tense muscles relax a bit.  He’s always been just a bit touch-starved.  Well, one problem at a time, she tells herself.

 

He rubs his hand down his face.  “We’re gonna be late.”

 

“You still think I’m letting you go to work, huh.” Her hand doesn’t move.

 

Apparently sitting up is too much work for him.  He leans back against the couch but actually turns to look at her now.  “I’m not lying, by the way.  When I woke up I felt dizzy.  Got worse when I was dressed and walked to the kitchen.  I thought I’d just close my eyes for a second but, ah, I guess I just got more tired ‘till I was lying on the floor.”

 

Ellie can vividly remember making fun of Alec for being so skinny.  _Thin and grumpy_ , she called him.  Everyone at the station would call him Shitface because he looked terrible every day – unshaven, dark bags under his eyes, permanent scowl.  She should’ve known there’s a bigger issue at play here.

 

Depression is known to cause unhealthy eating as a side effect but it just hadn’t clicked until now.  He must have built terrible habits after the Sandbrook case, eating only when he desperately needed to, sleeping only on occasion to avoid nightmares.  He was also busy trying to solve cases and forget the hurt and failure and along the way, he forgot to eat three meals a day. 

 

At first, Ellie hadn’t much cared if he drank his damn tea or ate anything at all.  Alec had swooped in during her maternal leave and taken the job her superior had promised her.  He’d tried to force objectivity on her in the middle of a nightmarish child killer case.  Along the way she’d forgotten that Alec is just like the rest of them, that he needs just as much food, that he gets tired and hungry at the same rate as any of them.  She feels stupid now, assuming that he just ate when she wasn’t looking, maybe an early breakfast or late dinner. 

 

“You haven’t been eating,” she says, “And you haven’t been sleeping.  I can tell, so there’s no use acting like you have, Alec.”  There’s no protocol for this.  She’s not really sure what to say.  All she knows is that she’s going to cook them both breakfast because she’s hungry and they’ve got more things to talk about.  Sitting there on the couch, with bags under his eyes and clothes rumpled, Alec looks like a light breeze could knock him over.

 

Without saying anything, Ellie gets to her feet and leans down to nudge Alec’s legs.  He makes a disgruntled noise like a teen being shooed out of bed in the morning but lets her shuffle his limbs around until he’s lying across the couch.  His eyes are already closed.

 

The kitchen isn’t barren as she’d feared – there's definitely enough to cook breakfast.  There’s a full carton of eggs in the fridge, milk, ham, cheese, the works.  She grabs everything needed for the full English.  The only thing she’s eaten today is a rushed cup of tea and a piece of toast, _and_ she’s cooking primarily for Alec, so she’s not exactly imposing. 

 

It’s quiet and peaceful at this hour in the morning.  The gentle lapping of water right outside the door makes it easy to think that it’s always peaceful.  Maybe not so much for Alec, but she does enjoy the white noise, the steady rhythm.  Even with the back door open, the little kitchen is still private.  She can take her time making breakfast.  While the toast is heating she calls the station to say that she'll be coming in late and that Alec is taking a sick day.  There’s no case today and the chief tells Ellie that it’s a slow day but not to make a habit of it.

 

Most everything is in order and taken care of.  Now she just has to knock some sense into Alec.  Not that Ellie craves acting like someone’s therapist but she has an angle on this that no one else does.  As Alec’s best friend, possibly his only friend, she has a sort of duty to try and help.  The only other option is saying ‘ _get a therapist_ ’ and then washing her hands of the issue.  She can’t do that.  Alec is withering right over there in the living room, he has been for a while now.  The thing is, he doesn’t need to be, because what had been tormenting him has been absolved.  The slow, twisting knife of a case left open has been removed.  He can heal now – all he needs is a bit of guidance, someone to help break the pattern he’d slipped into. 

 

“Alright,” Ellie murmurs to herself.  A bit of loneliness has stuck to her chest like a piece of lint.  Maybe the quiet is a bit insidious, a little more malicious than she’d first thought. 

 

It’s time to wake him up and get to talking.  Ellie has a feeling it’s going to be a bit like pulling teeth.  Alec is a prickly bastard on a good day, much less in the middle of a very vulnerable conversation.  Hopefully, if she manages to feed him beforehand, he won’t be any crankier than he would be on a regular day.  He’s had his nap…and Ellie is starting to sound like a mother.  She shakes her head a bit as though to dislodge the thoughts and walks back over to Alec. 

 

He looks like he’s sleeping soundly but all it takes a small tap on the shoulder and a quiet call of his name.  Alec makes a small snuffling noise and rubs his face again, though his hand is less shaky, and the discomfort tight around his eyes has eased marginally.  A good rest and a hearty meal or three should have him feeling substantially better, then. 

 

Alec blinks up at her with confusion in his drowsy eyes.  “Not a dream, then,” he says good-naturedly, “Did you cook breakfast?”  An embarrassed blush blooms across his cheeks.

 

“Yes, and it smells quite good, so come on.  I’m starving.”  Ellie leans back to let him stand on his own but doesn’t move until she’s sure that he won’t just keel over while her back is turned.  Together they sit at the small table and wordlessly dig into the small feast that she’s thrown together.  Halfway through her eggs, Ellie clears her throat and takes a sip of water.  “We need to talk about this, Alec.”

 

He freezes for a second.  Stops his fork.  It passes almost immediately.

 

“I know I joked about it before,” she goes on, “But you don’t eat enough, you don’t sleep enough.  I know why you got to that point.  I understand, you know I do.”

 

“Right.”  He puts down his fork and for a second Ellie thinks he might bolt.  It’s not that he’s a flight risk – except for the time he got heart surgery without telling her, but that’s not exactly flaking – but this is a hard subject to bring up.  Instead, he just reaches for a piece of bacon.  Ellie glances down again and realizes he hasn’t eaten as much as she thought he would.  “I’m fine, Ell.”

 

“You aren’t.  But you can be, and I’m gonna make sure of it.”  Ellie leans forward just a tad and makes sure that he’s looking her in the eyes before continuing.  “Our situations weren’t the same, I know that, but they were similar enough that I could have slipped, too.  I could have stopped eating because I was too busy being haunted by the case, stopped sleeping out of pure guilt.  Sometimes I do but I only get as far as skipping breakfast before someone reminds me to eat or lie down for a bit.”  Something compels her to reach out and rest her hand on his forearm.  “You just need someone to do that for you and get you back into good habits.  I won’t have you falling asleep on the floor of your kitchen or collapsing in the middle of the station.”

 

At that, Alec breaks eye contact.  His hand curls around Ellie’s at the same time, so she knows he hasn’t lost him.  He swallows.  “It’s been years.”  His voice breaks.  “I was so angry, for such a long time, it swallowed me up.  And then…I got tired.  Not in a way sleep could fix, funny enough.”

 

A moment passes – she feels that taking this slow is better for them both.  A moment of quiet to take a pause and get their emotions in check.   Ellie squeezes his hand lightly and tries her best to communicate her support nonverbally.  Alec looks up at her and takes a slightly steadier inhale. 

 

“It’s not that bad.  I’m not dying, am I?  Not anymore.”  He tries for a light tone but the reminder of his heart is still upsetting, for both of them.

 

“You very well could.  Think of it this way: if Daisy were eating or sleeping as little as you are, how would you feel?  It’s easy to tell yourself, _'it's fine if I do it'_. But you have to treat yourself the way you'd treat anyone else - with mercy.  So you’re going to relearn how to take care of yourself and go to a therapist and tell me when you’re feeling tired because I am your _friend_ and I’m not letting you get any thinner or grumpier!”  Alec blinks, taken aback.  “Alright?”

 

“Alright.”

 

Relief washes over her.  She leans back against the chair again and gestures at his plate.  “Try and eat up, now.  I’ll put the leftovers in the fridge and you’re going to catch up on sleep.  You can come over for tea later. Fred and Tom would love to see their Uncle Alec.”

 

He almost protests. She can see him shifting and getting ready to tell her that he’s fine, but to Ellie’s relief, he only nods.  “I should call in sick.”

 

“I already did.  Well, for you.  I said I was coming in late.”

 

A small laugh is startled out of him.  “’Course.  Thanks, Ellie.”

 

It’s a step in the right direction.  Conversations are just that, though, so the real work will be getting his appetite back to normal and making sure his sleep schedule is fixed.  At least he agreed to see a therapist.  Professional help alongside her support should have him right as rain eventually.  Until then, she’ll do what she can.

 

The leftovers get packed away into plastic containers and tucked into the fridge.  Ellie finishes her cup of tea before making sure that Alec is lying in bed in his pajamas.  With a belly full of Ellie’s absolutely delicious breakfast, he’s already drifting off when she’s heading out the door.  Worry doesn’t plague her throughout the day, not anymore.  It’s not that she believes that everything has been resolved already – it’s not realistic.  But she does trust him not to lie to her.  They’re a team.  Nothing is going to change that.


End file.
